Antony N Britt (calls himself Nick, to be awkward) is the author of horror novel, Dead Girl Stalking – a page-turning tale that slaps you in the face when you least expect it. He lives in Walsall in a house full of CDs, videos, books and many unread pieces of paper which may hold the secret to eternal life, but are most probably pizza menus.

Ghost Stories: Tales from the Dead of Night

Meet …
Mark, who loves Alison, but must first get past her dead father.
Jessie and Tommy. In fear of what’s in the attic.
Colin. As a medium, he’s used to ghosts. It’s the living he needs to be scared of.
Alec, haunted by a tragedy which took place forty years ago. Now the past has caught up.
Karen and Matthew, locked in a manor house with the spirit of its sadistic former owner.
Irene. All she wanted was attention; now she wishes it would go away.
And meet Cara. Disturbed by the presence in her bedsit, and a bloodstain which keeps returning.

By the author of Dead Girl Stalking, Ghost Stories contains 20 tales from the dead of night which will have you frightened to turn off the light. A book best left face down, under the bed, so the spirits can’t escape.

The Sunday Roast – Britt tackles the Brits

Am I mellowing?

In the months between my last Roast on Myspace and setting up the site here, I posted the odd comment on Facebook. This was mainly for lack of anywhere else to spout off. One of my many observations during this time, was the poor service I got from Gothic Girl at a local chip shop. You see, I have found a really nice fish and chip shop but it seems, good chips come with a price. Every time I go in, I have to wait fifteen minutes as they haven’t got anything cooked. Now listen. It’s called fish – and chips, it’s what they sell but never have any ready to serve.

I digress; you get the gist. Service is poor and last week was no exception. Unfortunately, for this blog, I can’t bring myself to have a go at Gothic Girl today as she was so bloody pleasant to me. I’m going soft, I can’t do it to the poor Corpse Bride.

What am I going to do? I’ve lost my touch. I can see it now. Next time I go into Pizza Hut to be told they’ve run out of dough, I’m going to say, ‘That’s okay, I’ll have pasta instead.’

Arrgghhh! What is happening to me?

And the winner is …

Apparently, Robbie Williams has been voted the world’s hottest man. Why, has he been sitting on a radiator all day? I have to admit, I never could see the appeal in terms of good looks for this fella, apart from the obvious “He’s rich and famous,” line. Perhaps it’s me and the fact I don’t understand what sort of looks women go for, in general. What I do know is, I always think Robbie is the spitting image of the stereotypical guy who stands behind news reporters and pulls silly faces. Oh well, at least he didn’t win a Brit award this year.

And speaking of the Brits …

The economy is in crisis, Syria is being bombed to bits but the biggest news in the UK is … that Adele had her Brit Award acceptance speech ruined to allow Blur to perform their set. Yes, Adele, the worldwide singing sensation (or monotonous dirge, depending on your viewpoint), was just about to thank everybody from her mum to the local postman when compere, James Cordon, was told to cut her off in mid-sob as the show had overrun. I have watched it now on You Tube and haven’t a lot of sympathy because if she hadn’t spent an entire minute trying to milk the crowd while fawning about saying, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” she might have got a few words of note into an acceptance.

Still, she was booted off the stage while displaying a disgraceful finger gesture to allow 90s pop band, Blur, onto the stage.

Blur had earlier won a special award for outstanding contribution to music. I’d be more impressed if they hadn’t spent six of their 21 years together, in a hiatus. How the hell is that an outstanding contribution?

At least the fantastic Foo Fighters won an award for best international group; much deserved after the excellent ‘Wasting Light,’ album last year.

The award that amused me was the one for best single, won by teeny group, One Direction. They may have polled more telephone votes, but do their fans realise you should get the bill payer’s permission (their parents) before ringing in.

One Direction – A group of guys who got lost following the leader in Peter Pan, it seems. Ugh! There’s only one direction my volume goes if I hear them on my car radio.

Not the best idea in the world.

Okay, lesson for the future. Don’t watch the Jeremy Kyle Show while you are eating.

Spaghetti bolognese did not taste good after watching her. And yes, the personality was as vile as she looks.

Nob of the week

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday dear tyrant …

Happy birthday to you

Robert Mugabe turned 88 this week, still presiding over a country whose population’s average life expectancy is only 34 years of age. There’s no justice is there? Mugabe says the success of living longer is to give up alcohol, smoking and red meat. Yes Robert, as your country is in poverty, your people don’t do any of that anyway. The real success of living to a ripe old age in Zimbabwe, it seems, is to become a ruthless dictator and live in luxury while the rest of your people starve. Then they too, may live to be 88.

Look at the King, look at the King, look at the … er, Queen?

I’ve never got it – London Fashion Week and any kind of fashion nonsense to be honest. It always shows just how true the theory of the Emperor’s New Clothes, is. All these people fawning about over models dressed in carrier bags held together with safety pins; who are they kidding that they think it’s good?

However, the best was this week when at a show, hats were paraded by models in the nude – apart from the hats, that is. As I say, Emperor’s New Clothes has come full circle now and you’re not telling me that any of the audience were not simply ogling the naked women.

Still, I suppose it was better than looking at the rubbish hats.

The worst leaving present – EVER!

One of the other things I posted on Facebook in my blogging absence was this picture of Roger Medwell and his farewell gift on retiring after 55 years with British Aerospace.

‘Hmmm … I wonder what they’ll get me: some garden furniture, a stereo system? Even an ornamental clock would do. Oh, here it is now …’

‘Bugger!’ Grit’s teeth. ‘Smile Roger, smile.’

Mind you, when I finished with West Midlands Police, the only official thing given to me was a certificate stating that I had worked for them for 17 years.

Yes, thanks for that, but seeing as it was me who worked there, I did actually know this in the first place.

ermmm nick nob of the week ???? lol urmm you watched the brit awards ? ohhh dear now who needs to find somethingto do like sorting his socks into colour 🙂 sweet blog hun and great that i can read you again .. couldnt see the pictures though not sure if that my comp, yours or this site .. but didnt spoil the writing .. hopefully catch you next time hugs Tracey .. kinkybits 🙂

oh ps … i say i only watch jeremy when nothing else on but .. its a fib i must admit im a little bit adicted … isnt it great to watch people that are worse than us lol it makes our family seem so normal

I’m hoping that picture makes a flattering fire, as it is not at all flattering to that man.
Modeling the hat naked……………… definitely using sex to sell that one. Most were probably saying, what hat? when they left. lol….

I tried posting at MySpace some….I still do, but it is not satisfactory, to say the least.

Too bad about those chips! I love the potato wedges at KFC but the last two times I got them, they were hard as a rock (not good when one has a top dental plate). I would have gladly waited to have fresh ones cooked.